


A Tale in Two Acts in Which a Fan is Made and Pleased Beyond Measure

by CherryMilkshake



Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: F/F, Humanstuck, but once you meet someone you never really forget them, post game alt universe, they won and were reborn without the memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-03
Updated: 2014-05-14
Packaged: 2017-12-13 20:59:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/828828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CherryMilkshake/pseuds/CherryMilkshake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kanaya Maryam is French and a working model who likes to read between shoots. Rose Lalonde is a successful New York author who's just starting to break into the European market. </p><p>And then there's the book signing that brings them face to face...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Act I: Kanaya is Introduced to Rose Lalonde, Well, Her Books Anyway

Kanaya yawned as she washed the make-up off her face, staring at her bored reflection. She wished that she could get more interesting shoots, but catalogues and advertisements paid well for simple work, so she felt like she had little right to complain.

Her partner for the shoot, a cute Italian girl named Luisa, noticed her boredom. “Do you like books, Kanaya?” The Italian rolled easily off her tongue. Kanaya loved how it sounded.

“Yes, I like to read.” Her Italian wasn’t as good obviously, but she was proud of the fact that she could answer without switching to French. “Why?”

“You should take a look at this American author, Rose Lalonde.” Luisa ducked under the dressing table to grab her purse, removing a Kindle. “I have her books in Italian, of course, but I’m sure there’s a French translation too.” She offered the e-reader to Kanaya.

It was a minimalist cover, with a waifish looking model fading into the background under the title, _Giorno della mente_. _The Day of the Mind_. “ _Le jour de l’esprit?_ ” she asked, making sure she was translating correctly.

“ _Oui_ ,” Luisa said with a smile. “Read it. It’s sooo good.”

So, Kanaya made a note in her planner. She knew it would save her time and money to buy an e-reader, and the Kindle was definitely nice, but she just really liked the tactile sensation of books, the feel of flipping the pages under her thumb, and the calming air of a used bookstore. Call her a purist or a Luddite, she didn’t care.

So, she made a note to drop by the bookstore on her way home that evening, not knowing that that note would change her life.

\--

The owner was excited to see the book on the counter. “This book was so great, Mlle Maryam, you have no idea how much I loved it. I have one other book by this author in stock right now. I will give it to you half off if you promise to read it.”

Kanaya blinked. “Sure, why not?”

The owner added the second book, _Le 11e seigneur_ , with a smile and a flourish. “They’re in the same universe, so I would read _Le jour_ first, and then _Seigneur_ , okay?”

“Okay, thank you.” She handed over the money and tucked the paperbacks into her bag, her curiosity growing. The owner, Mme Monarque, an ageless, regal, generally elegant woman, rarely got that excited over Kanaya’s choice in books. Normally, she tutted quietly to herself, chiding her with something like, “Oh, _ma petite_ , you spend so much time in the dark with these books. Don’t you want something where the majority of scenes are in the sun?”

For Mme Monarque to be so enthusiastic... Hm, perhaps there really was something to this author.

\--

She got home to her apartment, wiggling her fingers at her betta fish, who started to dart around excitedly when she turned on the lights, knowing that she was going to be fed. Well, Kanaya liked to think that the electric blue fish was a she, but you never really know with fish. Privately, she was sure she read somewhere that only the males ever got as bright and pretty as hers. Still, the fish was named Vrishchika, since she had spiny fins that reminded Kanaya somewhat of a scorpion’s tail.

She sprinkled some food into the tank all the same, watching Vrishchika dart around and eat. “It’s time for me to eat as well,” she murmured to herself after a moment. “Then I’ll take a look at this supposedly amazing book.”

Dinner was chicken alfredo, because she had been eating rabbit food all week and because it is delicious.

Finally, after the plates were washed and the silverware put away, Kanaya made herself a cup of tea, settled herself in her reading chair and pulled out _Le jour de l’esprit_.

And within ten minutes, the world had melted away. The story was centered on a young woman of noble descent, who lived under the tyranny of an empress of indeterminable longevity and the power to control the minds of her subjects, effectively making her l’esprit, the Mind, of her people. The protagonist was immune, and sought a way to overthrow the tyrant, seeking out a mysterious and shadowy group of rebels who were rumored to be immune themselves.

 

_When Eria entered the desert, the realization began to sink in that this land of swirling sand could easily become her cemetery. The sun beat hot and heavy overhead, and she shielded her dark hair under the gray hood, holding the Prophet’s words in her head like a talisman of protection._

_«Seek out those who hide in the sands. Find the one who flies as men walk, and his companion, whose blood is the lifeblood of his people. Trace the path of the setting sun, and you will find them.»_

_The man sat in her mind’s eye, blind gray eyes deep set in a pallid face, hair white in spite of his ageless features. The staff in his hands was a deep green, gold leaf swirling across its polished surface, impossibly ornate for a man of his status—he who was buried deep in obscurity to hide from the ever-present eye of the Mind._

_She looked to the sky, shielding her eyes, determining her orientation against the red glow. Having done so, she straightened her shoulders, turned due west, and began to walk._

It was close to 2am when Kanaya finally tore her eyes away, almost three-quarters of the way through the book. Her limbs were stiff, and the tea had long gone cold, left untouched. Vrishchika was darting around her tank, confused by the overhead light still being on so late. With a regretful sigh, Kanaya got up and turned it off, letting the fish sleep.

She tried to sleep as well, but ended up getting out of bed after 40 minutes to grab the book from the endtable and curl up in bed with it, reading until the end.

 

_Blood soaked into the rug at her feet, turning the royal purple to a dark tyrian. The Bird and the Crab lay dead, their blood dripping from Eria’s trident. The Empress was laughing._

_«Well done, little one! You’ve done my job for me, finding those rebels, even giving me a show with their execution! The looks on their faces! Ah, I missed that look of betrayal. Unfortunately, double-crossing is rather expected of me now, so they’re hardly even surprised anymore. I’m glad to see that it lives in our blood, aren’t you, my little Heiress?»_

_Eria said nothing, staring only at the blank, dead eyes of those she had come to call friends._

_The Empress brushed past her, looking down at the leaders of the rebellion she’d fought so hard to control. «They’re much smaller in person.» She kicked the Crab’s head, causing his tongue to loll out of his mouth. «What if we did something unprecedented?» Her eyes didn’t leave her former enemies. «You serve under me for the next, say 300 years or so, and then I retire with grace and leave the crown to you?»_

_«Somehow I doubt you would hold yourself to such an agreement,» Eria said slowly. Her feet were moving, gently, softly, approaching the Empress’ back._

_She laughed. «You know me so well! It’s a shame you have to die so soon.»_

_«That’s why I won’t.» The trident shot out like a snake, burying itself into the Empress’ back, spearing her heart on the center prong. It beat frantically outside of her chest, blood pouring out of both it and the gaping wound it left behind._

_And so the Empress died at the end of her niece’s blade._

_Eria pushed the corpse off the end with her foot, ignoring the wet squelch and thud of it hitting the floor. She looked up, and noticed a young man standing in the doorway, transfixed by the sight of the dead. He was perhaps a few years younger than her, wearing the yellow cloak that marked him as a member of the house of Mercury._

_Once, Eria might have smiled at him, tried to become his friend, but she was tired. Tired of talking. Tired of fighting. Tired of betraying. Instead, she set her trident down, and took the crown from where it had rolled off the Empress’ head, settling it on her own._

_«Boy,» she said, causing him to jump. «Find whatever slaves or servants are left and get someone to take care of these bodies, would you?»_

_He nodded quickly and ran away. Eria wondered if his father had survived the battle with the rebellion’s forces at sea, or if Lord Mercury even was his father. Some of the houses’ bloodlines had become strange, after the adoption of promising soldiers became popular. She wondered if any of the houses would be loyal to her. Neptune would be, presumably, since that had been the Empress’ house, and thus, by extension, her own. The houses of Venus and Lune would also be wise to court, being the houses of politics and of warriors respectively, but as such, would they accept a usurper?_

_She sighed and rubbed her eyes, imagining her near future, and only seeing more bloodshed on the horizon._

The sky was rosy by the time Kanaya managed to put the book down, feeling fulfilled but sad as well. She felt for Eria, and hoped that the kind, thoughtful girl from the beginning of the book would remain, but as she imagined her future... well, it was hardly certain.

Grateful for the weekend, Kanaya finally fell asleep, waking a few hours later to shower and dress, so that she felt a little bit more like a human being. Then, she pulled _Le 11e seigneur_ out of her bag, and settled down at the kitchen table behind a mug of coffee and a croissant.

_Le seigneur_ of the title turned out to be one of the lords of the Empress, and took place before her death. They had known each other as children, but she had grown distant and he had begun to love. This gap between them twisted love to hatred, and then to desire for revenge, though he had never truly been wronged.

 

_Lord Uranus’ boots clicked against the stone floors of his audience room, violet cape blown out behind him like a cresting wave. The Empress’ words floated through his mind, directionless and yet stinging with each pass, like a jellyfish in the current._

_«I fail to see what it is that you are driving at. We were friends once, but such things are long passed. We are but empress and vassal now, why should I afford you special privilege when there are other lords who give far more of themselves to me and my service. Lord Mercury for instance, has given me his entire fleet, and thus, I have named him Admiral of Her Imperial Service. Such a distinguished title, is it not? But what have you to offer, Lord Uranus? A dwindling treasury of dubious worth? Stories of how noble your house was in the past? These things mean nothing to me, Balafre. Prove your worth to me, then perhaps we can speak of favors.»_

Prove your worth, _she had said, as if all those years of assisting her in her rise to power, being by her side when she needed it most, all those years of scrubbing salt from the collar of his cape where she had cried into his shoulder! And Lord Mercury! The name made his blood burn. That man with his garish yellow robes and his grotesque teeth, jutting out of his mouth like a leech’s maw! How anyone could stand to look upon that face would forever be beyond his comprehension._

_Balafre twisted his head sharply to clear the image from his mind, resuming his frantic pacing._ Call me useless, will she?! _He seethed, gnashing his teeth at a nearby tapestry. «I should be her admiral! Is my grandfather not the one who created the damned navy?! Scorpion!» He roared the spy’s name, and she melted out of the shadows as if she’d been there the entire time. The pale blue crest of Uranus shimmered on her breast, seeming to glow against the black uniform she wore._

_«How can I be of service, my Lord?» Her voice was soft, belying the poison her words concealed._

_«How do you think one would go about the usurping of an Empress?»_

Kanaya let out the breath she didn’t even know she’d been holding, her stomach choosing now to growl at her hungrily. She glanced at the clock, and reluctantly put the book down, stretching as she got up from the kitchen table, eying the book warily, as if it would suck her back in if she didn’t pay close attention to its movements.

She went back to her bedroom, deciding that she needed to get out of the house and walk around, or else she’d be in no shape to go to bed early enough for her job the next day. So, she adjusted her jacket and scarf, and left the apartment, intending to grab some lunch at her favorite café... but not before she grabbed the book off the kitchen table and slid it into her bag.

The lady at the counter smiled at Kanaya as she entered and sat in her usual spot by the window. She ordered some scallops and a glass of Rosé. And while she waited for her food, she went back to reading.

 

_The Scorpion walked many roads, some high, some low, even some below ground, so it didn’t take her very long to hear whispers of a man called The Prophet. It was said he was omniscient, but the Scorpion knew that only meant he had good sources._

_It took her far too long for her taste, but she found him, hiding in a small village called Prairie, which was known only for its strange green and black wildflowers. The Prophet was a small, white man, with blind-gray eyes. He held a staff in his hand, deep green, and inlaid with curls of gold along the body. There was no top to it, though it appeared as if there were supposed to be one._

_«Filière, it took you quite some time, didn’t it?»_

_The Scorpion bristled. It had been many, many years since she had heard that name. Still, despite her confusion and sudden uncertainty, she forced a smile on her face. «I knew your sources were good. Where’d you pick up that little gem?»_

_«Why, don’t you remember what your people told you? I’m omniscient.» His smile was cold, thin on his paper white face. «But I know you don’t believe that for a moment.»_

_«Tell me what I want to know... Prophet.»_

_«The Empress has a niece she is currently unaware of,» he said immediately, running his hands over the staff in his lap. «She is the daughter of a sister whom Her Imperial Majesty thought murdered by House Ceres. You will find her in the land of wheat, but she will not be easy to catch. A mother’s fangs are by far the most wicked.»_

_«So, you’re capable of giving me a straight answer, but you won’t because...?»_

_The Prophet smiled, but his eyes shone with a cold light. «Because just giving it to you would defeat the purpose of your journey.»_

“Your scallops, Mademoiselle.” The waitress set them on the table, and Kanaya closed the book slowly, taking in the last few words of the page before sliding in her bookmark.

“Thank you.”

\--

She continued reading as she walked home, and she finished the book by sundown.

 

_«It’s over, Lord Uranus!» The yell cut through the wooden doors of his bedchamber, his last refuge. «Come quietly and your life may be yet spared!»_

_Balafre began to laugh, a madman’s laugh. «Fool! If my life is spared by your hand, then it will only be taken by the Empress herself! Try to kill me if you dare!» He hefted his crossbow, pointing the bolt towards the doors. «I wait for your move, Saturnian dogs!»_

_The doors opened. And Balafre fired, piercing the first man to enter clean through his stomach, the bolt landing solidly in the thigh of the other man behind him._

_But crossbows are hardly a weapon of speed. Within moments, it had been taken from him, and he was flat on the ground, pinned in place by Lord Saturn. The man leaned over him, one black boot pressing into his wrists. He could feel the heavy club that was the signature weapon of the house sinking into the space between his shoulderblades. The weight increased as the lord leaned closer, pushing it farther into his spine._

_No one knew Lord Saturn’s true name, because his tongue had been cut out. Some said that he chewed it out himself in a fit of madness. He was the Empress’ most deadly enforcer and assassin._

_Then, the weight was lifted from his shoulders, and Balafre could feel Lord Saturn shift back, handing the club to some unseen member of his squadron._

_«I’m doing you a favor, you traitorous scum,» came a low growl of a voice, and Balafre caught sight of crazed, violent eyes and jagged scars cutting across a face far too young to bear them, before the club came down and there was nothing left but black._

_Meanwhile, in the basement, the younger son of Balafre clutched a little girl to his chest. He could hear the battle going on upstairs, and knew in his heart of hearts that his father was not going to live to see the dawn. He remembered his orders though._

_«Keep her secret. Keep her safe. Take her to Lady Ceres. She will know what to do. And remember, you are not to tell anyone of your blood, do you understand? If I do not survive the night, you will be a traitor along with me, and I cannot lose the last of my line. Hold it tight, do not forget who you are, but tell no one.»_

_Filled with the determination of youth, he shushed the girl as she began to wake, and opened the servant’s staircase, climbing until he reached the gardens. Then, a dead sprint to the hedge to try and avoid being seen out any windows. Being careful of the thorns, he wrapped the girl in his cape, and pushed through the bush, hissing as the spines cut into his skin, slicing at any exposed flesh, and shredding his clothing. The girl began to hiccup, the beginnings of a sob, but he smiled at her and told her that everything would be okay, finally reaching the other side._

_He oriented himself, remembering that Ceres land lay to the east, so he found the sun, tracing his path with an outstretched hand. And he began to jog, blood dripping onto the ground behind him, only for it to be swallowed by grass and earth, leaving no trail to follow._

_Three days later, a servant of Ceres discovered a half-crazed boy kneeling outside the gates, clutching a wailing babe in his shaking arms. «Please,» he begged. «Please, all we need is a safe place to live...!»_

_Mme Gouache was hardly the type to turn two children away, so she opened the gates and brought them inside, wiping away the boy’s tears with her apron and cradling the girl to her chest to try and stop her cries. «What are your names, dear?»_

_And the last of Balafre’s line answered, «I don’t remember.»_

_So fell the house of Uranus._

Kanaya sighed as she set the book on the table, staring at it, that hollowness of finishing a good book settling in her stomach. She wanted _more_. The repeated presence of the Prophet had been suspicious, and she suspected he was not the simple background player he pretended to be. She _wanted more_.

Now filled with purpose, she left the book on the table and went to her bedroom, where her laptop sat charging on the desk. She didn’t use it much, but it’s not like she was, er, completely incompetent with it. She turned it on, and went to bother Vrishchika as it warmed up. She was hiding in her plant and refused to be interesting, so back to the bedroom Kanaya went, sitting down behind the laptop and bringing up her browser.

It didn’t take long for Kanaya to find Rose Lalonde’s blog, very tastefully done with a pale striped lavender background and easy to read black text. It was simple and elegant and satisfied Kanaya’s designer side. Rose Lalonde was written across the top in script, forming the header, and the language options were simple enough to find, so she turned it to French. It felt like cheating, but she really needed to learn the next release dates, and didn’t much feel like struggling through the English.

Ah, there it was. _Le 3e livre d’Eria : Celui qui voit tout ; 25 octobre_

Kanaya glanced at her wall calendar (it had very pretty pictures of plants and flowers) and sighed. That was a good six months away. She clicked around the French language blog, but soon realized it was just simple schedule stuff about book signings and release dates, while the actual author posts were untranslated, aside from the “thank you for buying my books” ones.

So, she switched back to English, brought up her online dictionary and made herself comfortable. Hm, on second thought, this needed tea.

One brief tea trip later, Kanaya made herself comfortable and starting looking through the blog posts. There were book reviews, in addition to links and commentary on psychology articles and studies, as well as introductions and explanations of myths, both familiar and strange. Very occasionally, there were small tastes of books to come, but Kanaya was scared to read them, for fear of spoilers.

Out of curiosity, she checked out the US release dates and was dismayed to discover that book 3 had already been published there, and book 4 was slotted to be released two months in the future, which was labeled “the end of the series”. The word “series” linked to a blog post entitled, “What is to come”, posted on Christmas Eve.

 

_I’m very pleased so many people have enjoyed Eria’s books. It has been a pleasure reading your emails and comments, and, of course, meeting you in person._

_Of course, now that Eria is getting a well-deserved rest from my bloodied pen, I’m sure you all are at the edges of your seats wondering what comes next._

_I’m afraid I have a great many ideas, and as many projects currently in process, so I cannot say precisely what is to follow in the next few years, but I assure you that it will be quite different from the last project, even alien, one could say. I am not your average science-fiction writer, and so I promise it will be worth your time and attention._

_And, because I do need to eat, despite all rumors to the contrary, your money as well._

_I wish you all a pleasant New Years, and look forward to meeting you in 2013._

Kanaya chewed her thumb as she read, frustrated by the sentence construction, but after she understood what was being said, she was able to appreciate the flow and rhythm of the author’s words. She tried reading it aloud, but her accent disgusted her, forcing her mouth shut.

English had always been a secondary language interest, compared to Italian, which she encountered more in her work, and she had always considered French books to be the best anyway, but now she wasn’t sure. If she enjoyed these books as much as she did in French, what were they like in their original tongue? Could they even be better? She could see very careful details placed in the texts after all. How many other ones had been lost in translation?

So, she bought books 1-3 from Amazon.co.uk, and grabbed her old English textbooks off the bookshelf, spreading them out across her desk.

She was going to need more tea. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize that with Cronus' name, the Amporas are pretty firmly tied to Saturn, however, Uranus is considered Aquarius' ruling house in modern astrology, and I liked the symbolism of Uranus falling at the hand of Saturn.


	2. Act II Act I: Kanaya Gets Her Hands on Volume 4 And Attends a Book Signing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two parts became three, so I became Hussie and cheated. B)

It had taken Kanaya much, much longer to read the English versions, but she came out of the second book satisfied. It’d been a little easier, since she had context already, and it was interesting to see that most of the French names that she had taken as translations, such as Scorpion’s name, were actually in the original text. It was kind of exciting to imagine that Rose Lalonde could speak French. Obviously, her name was of French origin, but Kanaya knew that Americans were often shockingly monolingual, so that didn’t mean much.

The title of the third book was a bit difficult to understand at first. _Sight Omnifold_. When she finally realized it was a play on “twofold”, she felt a bit stupid.

But, it was short-lived, because the book was excellent. All of her suspicions about the Prophet were proven true, but she never would have expected the result.

_Eria stared down at the man known only as the Prophet, her eyes sharp. Her fingers curled around the trident at her side, loose enough to appear nonchalant, but tight enough that she could act quickly if necessary. Lux stood by her side, pocketed hands gripping the handles of his throwing knives._

_The man laughed, shaking his white head. “I am but an old man, my lady Empress. Surely you don’t believe me to be a threat.”_

_“I don’t know what to believe. All I know is that House Saturn has turned on us, and that they seem to have access to information they’re not supposed to.”_

_“You didn’t seem to mind when it was you receiving the illicit information, did you?”_

_Her grip turned white-knuckled. “So you admit to treason?”_

_“I admit to knowing far more than I know what to do with. Why should I care who listens?” He sighed and set his staff on the floor, the green-gold orb on top glinting dully in the firelight. Eria couldn’t recall if that orb had been there when she saw him before. “A blind man needs to have a way of making a living, after all. I exchange information for... favors.” He stroked the orb, his fingers ghosting across its polished surface._

_“So, if I allow you to stay here, and serve as your patron, you will cease giving information to my enemies?”_

_Lux gave her a questioning look, as if asking why she would do that for someone who essentially just admitted to treason, but she ignored him._

_“But of course, Your Majesty. You are most generous.”_

_Eria signaled to two guards, instructing them to show the Prophet to an empty room. As soon as he was gone, Lux rounded on her. “You can’t be serious.” His S’s whistled through a gap in his front two teeth. “You shouldn’t be taking care of someone who was helping to overthrow you.”_

_Despite his anger, he didn’t yell. Instead, it was a flat, conversational tone that didn’t invite eavesdroppers. It was a habit of his of which Eria was quite fond. “I want to keep an eye on him. If I kill him, he can’t be an asset to me. But, if he’s as pragmatic as he claims, I can use him to get the other houses in line.”_

_Lux paused, then raised an eyebrow. “You play a long game.”_

_“I won’t last lng if I let emotion rule me. It was arrogance that did the last one in.”_

_“I thought it was your trident.” His mouth quirked._

_She smiled. “That too. But she had gotten lazy with her powers. She thought she could predict and control me like everyone else.”_

_“But you’re unpredictable.”_

_“I try to be. It might keep me alive.”_

_Lux gripped her hands in his, staring at her with his mismatched eyes. “I will protect you.”_

_She gave him a warm smile, but didn’t answer. He meant it, and she knew it, but she also knew how precarious her situation was, and had no wish to see him dead. Though, if she cared too deeply, he could be leverage against her. She hated this._

\--

_After dinner, Eria went to the Prophet’s room. She found him sitting in a chair across from the doorway, polishing the staff in his hands. She wondered if he ever put it down._

_“Only if I need to,” he said calmly. “It’s quite precious to me. And no, I cannot reads minds, I simply know what it is you’re going to ask.”_

_“Because you know everything.”_

_He smiled, but it had an air of condescension that set Eria’s teeth on edge--it reminded her of the dead Empress. “I do indeed. I know how the house of Lune is refusing to cooperate and is seeking independence from the Empire. I know that its lord is striving to ally with Venus in that venture. I know that Saturn is similarly twisting Venus’ arm, and that it is caught between them and you.”_

_Eria said nothing in answer, her expression darkening with every word._

_“I know that there’s strife within your own house, due to your usurping of the throne. I know that Mercury is your ally only because the lord and his eldest sons died at sea, leaving the youngest in charge. I know the rumor that the house of Uranus still exists, and that you are seeking the heir. And I know that Jupiter and Soleil are under siege by Saturn’s forces, so you can’t count on them for aid.”_

_She clenched her fists against her thighs, glaring at the floor, where the butt of the staff sat between the Prophet’s feet._

_“I know that you feel trapped, helpless and alone. And you think keeping me here prisoner will help you.”_

_He leaned forward, balancing himself on the glass orb which topped the rod. “But let me tell you a secret.”_

_Unconsciously, Eria leaned towards him in return, as his voice softened._

_“It won’t.”_

_She snapped back to perfect posture, glaring down at the man with what she hoped was a regal and haughty expression. Until she remembered that he was blind, and couldn’t see it._

_He was smiling still. “You know the old stories.”_

_“Which ones?” The sudden topic change threw her off, making her forget that she should have left, to show him that she would not stand for passive threats. And yet, there she was, ensnared yet again._

_“About the twin gods. One of birth, growth, inspiration--”_

_“And the other of death, decay, and destruction. Yes, I know them.”_

_“You think you know them. In reality, the gods you know as twins are really just two faces of one god. Think of a two-headed snake, if you will. Two minds, two consciences, one body. They shift control in an infinite loop, neither one ever predominating.”_

_Eria hesitated, then pointed out, “But the stories say that ten heroes defeated the god of destruction, sealing him away. Those heroes became the ten houses of nobility.”_

_“The god was sealed away, yes, but it was along with his sister. And there were twelve heroes, not ten.”_

_“Twelve?” Eria counted on her fingers. “Soleil, Mercury, Venus, Lune, Ceres, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune. Ten, though the house of Uranus is said to be gone. What were the last two?”_

_“They were gods, of course. Two bands of four. They were minor gods, of breath, of knowledge, of living, of nothing, to name a few.”_

_“Do they still exist?”_

_The old man grinned, lazily and threateningly. “I don’t know.”_

_“If you know everything, you must know that.”_

_“Must I?”_

_“Yes!” Eria sighed loudly, trying to compose herself. “Fine. You don’t know. Why is this relevant?”_

_“The seal on the two-faced god is a blood seal. As long as your ‘heroes’’ blood remains living, the god is locked away.”_

_“So, the son of Uranus is definitely alive then!”_

_He smiled, but didn’t respond._

_Eria fell silent, her thoughts racing. “You didn’t answer the question. Why is this relevant?”_

_“Because there are forces working to free the two-faced god, particularly Destruction. He was sealed away against his will; his sister, Inspiration, allowed herself to be sealed. Can you imagine the rage of an impotent god, locked away for hundreds of years? The world would fall to its knees, and be cleansed. Then, it could be born anew.”_

_“So they seek a rebirth.” She ran her hands over the bangles on her wrists, the clinking of metal soothing to her frayed mind. “Why tell me this?”_

_“Because the seal is close to breaking. All that’s left is the blood. There are three bloodlines who are on their last member. Can you guess them?”_

_“Mine. Uranus. ...Mercury.”_

_“Good girl.” The staff clunked against the floor as he used it to stand. “Now, of those three, which two have a history of rivalry?”_

_There was yelling outside. The pounding of guards’ boots. The clanking of weapons. “_ Lux _,” she whispered, slamming the door behind her as she ran, following the guards. When she got back to the reception hall, there was a duel taking place._

_Lux was dodging blows from the longsword, but Eria knew he was armed only with knives, which wouldn’t be of much use unless he could gain ground somehow. The attacker looked vaguely familiar, with dark hair and light eyes that stirred some distant memory..._

_But it wasn’t important. Trident in hand, Eria jumped between the two men, blocking the sword blow with the center of the shaft. The spear rang with the sound, the vibrations traveling painfully up into her shoulders and back._

_The guards grabbed the intruder, wrestling the sword from his hand. But he ducked away from them, snaking between them, drawing a knife from his boot. Before Eria or the guards could do anything, the knife was in Lux’s ribs, and blood was dripping hot and slick from his mouth. “I’ll kill you!” she screamed at the stranger. “I will kill you!!”_

_“I humbly suggest you don’t,” came a quiet, smug voice. It was the Prophet, the staff in his hands now glowing a sickly green. The guards backed away from him. Eria wondered if the man were really blind at all._

_The stranger took an orb, a red mirror of the one on the glowing staff, out of a pouch at his hip and brought it to the Prophet. The man smiled and slid it into place on the other end. It was glowing white now, washing out any color remaining in his face._

_“The blood seal is broken and the staff is complete,” the Prophet said, his voice buzzing and crackling as the staff glowed brighter and brighter. “And I am an excellent host.” The light shattered, throwing the world into pitch blackness, the dark between lightning strikes._

_There was a squelch and a wet thud, and when Eria could see again, there was a tall, bulky man with blood-red skin standing where the Prophet had been, surrounded by white ribbons that she soon realized was human flesh. The remains of the “host”. Bile churned in her stomach, but she held it down, gripping her trident tightly as she gazed upon Destruction._

_A few of the guards decided to be heroes, and Destruction laughed as he grabbed their heads in his massive hands, crushing them as easily as squeezing an orange. The stranger behind Eria collapsed to his knees, the splashing of his vomit against the stone drowned out by the blood and bits of organ splattering on the ground. The smell burned her eyes and nostrils, but she held her ground._

_“I will have those who locked me away,” Destruction growled. His voice made gooseflesh rise on Eria’s neck and back, and made her bones ache inside her skin. “I will flay the skin from their bones and devour their entrails. And then I’ll let them die.” He laughed again, and then, with a loud crack, he was gone, leaving only the cooling filth behind him._

_Eria let herself shake, then let the tears fall, streaking down her cheeks. She stayed upright, out of an irrational desire to keep her dress clean. If her dress stayed clean, nothing was real. If her dress was clean, Lux was safe, there was no stranger, there was no angry god._

_This comforting illusion was broken by the sobs coming from the man behind her, quiet, ugly-sounding things, and the sight of Lux’s open, dead eyes staring at her from her periphery. It was all real._

_And Eria knew it was she who was going to have to fix it._

 

Kanaya set the book down, her brows tight together. _He should be green,_ she thought. _Green. With one leg and a missing tooth._ “Why?” she asked herself. Where did that image come from? Why was it so specific? And why, why did it open a seemingly bottomless pit in her stomach that left her feeling weak and shaky?

It was a silly image by all accounts. And yet... And yet...

She slapped her cheeks sharply, and went back to the book, looking through the acknowledgements until she reached the back cover. The slipcover had a small picture of Ms. Lalonde, as well as a brief biography. Kanaya studied the picture carefully, taking in the author’s pale features, her straight blonde bob, and her careful, meticulous make-up. She wondered if she always looked that good, or if it was just for the benefit of the camera.

_Rose Lalonde lives in New York City with a cat and a great multitude of books. This is the perfect environment for a growing author, though, from time to time, she finds herself missing the Middle of Nowhere, Upstate New York where she grew up. She is 27 years old._

Kanaya stared at the picture for a long, long time. _She isn’t married_ , she noted. But... that didn’t mean anything. From the tone of her blog and books, Kanaya could imagine her as the type to keep her personal life very private. So, just because she wasn’t open about her romantic life, didn’t mean she was single. And... why was Kanaya thinking about this anyway? It wasn’t any of Kanaya’s business, first of all, and second of all, there was an ocean between them, not to mention the language barrier and, oh right, most women weren’t lesbians.

She sighed and snapped the book shut, sliding it onto her nightstand. She hated applying that word to herself. _Lesbienne_. It made her father’s mouth tighten and her mother’s brow furrow. Neither of them would say outright that being such a thing would turn them against her, but it hung unspoken in the air. Her mother still tittered over the shortness of Kanaya’s hair, and slipped little comments about boyfriends into their everyday conversations. (« _Maman_ , I wear wigs when I do shoots, so short hair makes it easier. And no, _Maman_ , most of the men I meet through work are gay. And I’m too busy to go out clubbing. ... _Maman,_ no, I do not want to meet your friend’s son. ...Yes, I’m sure he’s very nice, but I _really_ don’t have the time.»)

Long, tedious conversations, in which Kanaya’s mother would usually run through the usual list of topics: dating life, asking how she’s eating, «But why won’t you wear just a simple, pretty hijab, dear?», and reminders to come home for Ramadan if it’s within the upcoming three months, with the silent promise of speed dating through the sons of her newest acquaintances after dinner.

And yet, despite it all, she loved her family. ...And also women. Women were pretty great.

Kanaya rubbed her face, willing her thoughts to change direction. She looked at her calendar, where the release date for the 4th book was circled, only three weeks away. November 24th. The title was _Earthsea Borealis_. Kanaya had guessed that “borealis” was related to the aurora borealis, but “earthsea” meant nothing in her dictionary, besides being “earth” plus “sea”, though Google had given her a fictional world created by Ursula K. Le Guin, so perhaps the title was an allusion of some kind. She didn’t know, but it didn’t matter. She was excited to read the book regardless.

To help keep her mind off her mother, Kanaya turned on her computer and navigated to Ms. Lalonde’s blog. There was a new button on the side that said “signing tour”.

Maybe she would come to Paris? It seemed too much to hope. She clicked the button.

It was a short list. ...And they were all US locations, unless one or two of those abbreviations were Canadian provinces? She googled each location, and was disappointed to see they were all in the upper eastern corner of the US. “Well, that makes sense,” she told herself sternly. “I doubt she has the time or money to go all around the world just for a book release.”

The last date, December 1st, a week after the book release, was in New York City, where Ms. Lalonde lived. Kanaya was seized by a realization. She hadn’t taken her vacation yet. She had enough in savings and racked up in credit card miles that getting to New York and back for a week or two wouldn’t be hard at all. And she’d always wanted to go anyway, especially to check out Fifth Avenue and try on all the gorgeous clothes she’d never be able to afford.

She started looking at ticket prices, sucking her teeth at how expensive it was. But it was the beginning of Christmas season, so of course the prices were going to be high... She ended up finding a decently-priced flight on Aer Lingus, with a layover in Dublin both ways, and snatched up the tickets, refreshing her inbox until she saw the confirmation email, which she printed and pinned to the corkboard above her desk.

Then she called her cousin, who was also her agent. “Hello. Porrim Maryam speaking.”

“Good evening, Porrim. I hope this isn’t a bad time?”

“No, it’s fine. What’s going on, Kanaya?” She heard Porrim shift, probably leaning back on her couch. Her voice had deepened from her business falsetto.

“I’m going to use some of my vacation time to go to New York City for two weeks,” she explained. “I’ll be leaving the 29th of November, and returning the 13th of December.”

“That’s very soon. A last minute decision?”

Kanaya blushed despite herself. “Yes, a bit.”

“Any reason in particular you’re going?”

Kanaya felt stupid for not keeping in mind both how perceptive and how nosy her cousin was. “There’s a book signing I want to attend.”

“Seems a long way to go for only a book signing.”

“It just gave me a time frame. I’ve wanted to visit New York City for a few years, you know that, Porrim.”

Porrim chuckled on the other end of the line. “So you’re definitely not going to meet an Internet girlfriend, then?”

Kanaya knew her face was bright red now, darker skin be damned. “Definitely not. I’ve never dated anyone online.”

“Really? Oh, _ma biquette_ , when you return, remind me to help you set up a profile on _Amoureux_. Your dating life makes me want to cry.”

_You and everyone else in this family,_ she said to herself, but aloud she said, “Whatever you want, Porrim. Will you put in my vacation time with Aunt Dominique?”

“Of course, _chouchou_. Have a nice vacation.” After the line went dead, Kanaya sighed and threw the phone onto her bed. Porrim meant well, of course, but blind dating of any kind made Kanaya extraordinarily uncomfortable.

So, to get her mind off of the subject, she decided to start to pick out her outfits for New York City. She only had a month after all.

Oh God, she had shopping to do.

\--

The evening of the 28th, Kanaya was finishing packing her bags--one suitcase and a carry-on. In the suitcase, neatly folded and packed, were the majority of her clothes, her toiletries bag, and a couple of books. In the carry-on, one day’s worth of clothes and toiletries, a book for the flight, her international cell phone, its charger, and a collection of plug adapters. She checked and double-checked everything, making sure all of it was in its proper place.

Then she laid out her traveling clothes. She had decided on a long skirt and tights for the plane, because it was going to be cold, along with a comfortable blouse and a soft green sweater. Her peacoat was hung on the back of the closet.

She went through her mental checklist. Bags packed, traveling clothes out and ready, her neighbor would come and feed Vrishchika, she was turning the heater for the apartment off, but was going to leave the aquarium’s on, so no worries there...

It was time to go to bed. A good night’s rest is very important.

Yes. Very important.

She slipped under the covers, content that she was as prepared as humanly possible.

Yup. Should be super easy to fall asleep. Nothing to worry about.

Nothing at all.

\--

Kanaya ended up having to drink half a bottle of wine to fall asleep. The morning was a blur of panicked last minute checking and packing, to the tune of frenzied whispers of thanks to her past self for laying out clothes the night before.

But eventually, she was on a plane to Dublin, where she jogged through the airport to catch her connection to New York City, bag smacking painfully against her thighs. But she made it and settled in for the seven and a half hour flight. She tried to read, but her nervousness and excitement kept her from being able to focus properly, so she just listened to her mp3 player, veering wildly from genre to genre as her mood shifted.

What did Rose Lalonde’s voice sound like? Did she have an accent? Would Kanaya even be able to hear her accent? (Luisa had said she couldn’t really tell the difference between _québécois_ and proper French when she first started learning, which continued to boggle Kanaya’s mind. But what if Kanaya was the same way?)

She wished she could turn off her thoughts, but still they continued to spin, until she could no longer deny the fact that she had _a huge crush on Rose Lalonde_. And she was about _to meet her in person_. _Face to face. **They might even have a small conversation.**_

She spent the rest of the flight in a terror-induced paralysis.

And it was still two days until the book signing.

_Aaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh._

\--

She took the subway to her hotel, which was comfortingly familiar, but for the tenor of the voices in the background. She felt quite clever, having looked up the route from airport to hotel prior to actually leaving France.

The neighborhood where her hotel was was very pleasant, with none of the chaos promised to her by American movies. She was grateful. After dropping her things off, she tucked her passport and emergency credit card into her bra, just in case, grabbed her purse and decided to go exploring.

It didn’t take long to find the bookstore where the signing was going to be. Eldritch Horizons. There were many books on display in the window, including a copy of _Earthsea Borealis_. She popped in and bought one, smiling at the little chalkboard that announced in cheerful white cursive: “Rose Lalonde book signing 12/1! 11am”.

The woman behind the counter was short and curvy, with short black hair and horn rimmed white glasses that reminded Kanaya of a librarian’s. A blue gemstone glittered on the side of her nose. “Did you see the sign?” she asked upon seeing the book on the counter. “If you bring the receipt with you, or just buy another copy then, you’ll get a free exclusive bookmark. We try to encourage our sales, you know?” Though her voice was pleasant, she was a fast talker, and Kanaya lost the thread of her words pretty quickly.

She blushed heavily. “ _Pardon?_ ”

The woman, whose tag read “Aranea”, smiled gently. “Sorry. I didn’t realize you weren’t a native.” She paused, indicating she was starting again. “If you come to the book signing--” a wave toward the sign, “bring your receipt--” placing it on top of the book, “and we will give you a special bookmark,” giving the rack next to the register a spin. “So that we make money.” With a warm chuckle, she smiled wider. “Understand?”

Kanaya couldn’t help smiling back. She had heard conflicting stories of Americans. Some people had told her they were rude. Others that they were friendly, a little _too_ friendly even. Kanaya felt lucky to discover one of the friendly ones. “Yes, thank you.”

“One of my friends is Japanese, so I know how hard it can be to understand everything sometimes! Don’t be afraid to ask. In my experience, people are usually very happy to help! Where are you from?”

“Marseille. Um, France.”

“Wow, cool! I’ve always wanted to visit France, especially the Louvre. Have you been?”

“Yes. It is... very big. I like the sculpture.” Kanaya was starting to understand the “too friendly” part she’d been warned about.

“Oh, I’m so jealous! Oh well, someday, right? Do you need anything else? I’d be happy to recommend somewhere for you to eat.”

Well, Kanaya _was_ getting hungry. “Okay.”

Aranea gave her careful directions to a small Indian restaurant a few blocks away, and it was actually very good. She munched on a second helping of naan bread on the walk back, looking up at the _gratte-ciels_ from time to time, trying to recall the English word. It was something similar to the French, she knew. Hm, “sky-scratchers”? No, that didn’t sound right, she was going to have to look it up.

God, how was she going to talk to Rose Lalonde if she couldn’t even remember obvious vocabulary? She was going to make a complete fool of herself, she knew it.

\--

The next day was spent jet lagged and and reading.

_Despite being a god called Destruction, he left nothing but the sound of crying in his wake._

_Eria looked down at the man who killed her Lux, mentally debating whether he was worth disemboweling. She decided to seek answers instead. “Who are you?”_

_“Danios,” he answered in a hoarse, trembling voice. “I... what... What have I done?”_

_“Well, Danios, you’d killed someone dear to me, which also unleashed the wrath of an angry god who seeks to kill those who imprisoned him. Of course, they are long dead, and it won’t take him long to realize that. So, he’ll probably go after his descendents, including me, and you, Lord Uranus.”_

_The man, boy really, despite the adult line of his jaw and face, stared up at her with large eyes. “How did you...”_

_“Call it a lucky guess, extrapolated from the so-called Prophet’s words. So, Danios, what do you want to do? I could kill you now and avenge my poor Lux. Or I could tie you up somewhere where Destruction can find you easily and wait.” He began to tremble, watching the way Eria’s fingers traveled up and down the shaft of her trident, casual but threatening. “But those wouldn’t help me in the long run, though I would_ feel _better. How about you swear yourself to my service? You will be my dog until the day that I decide you’ve repented for your stupid,_ stupid _actions. ...Or I could just kill you now and be done with it. Your choice, Danios.”_

_He looked up at her, deflated and miserable, then shifted until he was kneeling, head bowed. “I, Danios, Lord of House Uranus, do hereby swear myself to the service of the Empress of this realm until the day she sees fit to release me, or I die, and not a moment before.”_

_Eria’s face was grave when she responded, “Rise, my vassal, my servant, my dog. You will not question me, you will not lie to me, and you will remember that your life is mine with which to do as I see fit, and I can end it should I choose to.”_

_“Yes, Your Majesty.”_

_“Excellent. I have a question for you.”_

_He remained silent, his eyes still red-rimmed from crying._

_“Actually, I have several, but we’ll start with the important one. Can you read?”_

_“Yes, Your Majesty.”_

_“Good. Go to the library. Find someone to show you the way. Bring me anything you can find on gods, minor or otherwise. Focus on finding or summoning them.”_

_He bowed and walked off down a hallway at random, searching for a servant that wasn’t dead or hiding. Eria sighed deeply and stared down at Lux. Blood still oozed from his mouth, dripping into the puddle under his head. Kneeling, no longer caring about the mess, she picked him up, cradling his head against her neck so she didn’t have to see his face. Then, she walked slowly and gently down into the crypt, pretending he was only sleeping, pretending that his unnatural chill was the result of ice and snow, not death’s kiss._

_She’d known she would get him killed one day, but she had never expected it to be so soon._

_The former Empress lay in a stone box, her body hidden beneath a deluge of red-violet poppies. Eria was tempted to remove her from her tomb, throw her down with the bodies of long-dead lords of lesser importance, but instead, she found an empty box and lay Lux inside, closing his eyes with her fingers, wiping the blood from his face, smearing it over her hands without a care._

_The Prophet had spoke of a god of living. Perhaps..._

_...But it did no good to dwell on dreams._

_As she walked back upstairs, she stopped now and again, staring at the blood on her hands, as if it would have vanished in the brief moments between her last glimpse. She made her slow way to the main library, and the vivid color turned dull in her hands._

For some reason, the lack of stated color of the blood stuck out to Kanaya, wiggling into her brain, trying to drudge up a long-forgotten memory. Liquid gold was on her mind, flowing from empty eyes, flesh grayed by twilight beneath it. 

She set the book down, feeling unsettled and sad. She had liked Lux, for all she knew he was doomed to die. The foreshadowing on that hadn’t exactly been subtle. ...Or so she thought. But looking back, aside from Eria worrying that she would get him killed, was there anything else? Why had she been so certain he’d actually die?

Kanaya yawned and looked at the clock. It was only seventeen, er, five p.m., but she was exhausted. There was a McDonald’s next to the hotel, so she grabbed herself a chicken salad and a water, and ate in silence, apprehension filling her gut much more effectively that the almost-decent food.

She spent the next two hours fretting over her outfit for the next day. Did she wear the nice burnt orange autumn dress and a dark belt, or go for a more professional vibe with her A-line charcoal skirt and ruffled green blouse? Maybe the skirt with the dark green sweater? But would that come off as drab? Should she try to be a little sexier? Maybe the slit skirt and the military-styled tank top that gave her fantastic cleavage? Ugh, but it would be cold. Why did she even bring it? ...Oh right, fantastic cleavage. The ribbed green sweater caught her eye. It was warm, it hugged curves in just the right way, and looked fantastic with the A-line. She set them aside, looking at them on the bedspread. Struck by a sudden thought, she added her black peacoat to the group, and was pleased by what she saw.

Pantyhose? Hm, subtle sheer pantyhose, because of the chill. And her black pumps with the flower broach decoration near the toe.

She put everything on, minus the hose, and checked out the mirror, nodding to herself in approval. Yes, this would work. She took it off again, hung up the component parts all together so she could grab them quickly, and set the alarm for 8 o’clock, which gave her plenty of time to get there a good hour early, then hopped into the shower to shave, wax, lotion and play with make-up ideas.

She didn’t turn off the lights until almost two, but it didn’t matter, because she could only doze through the night, dreaming half-lucid dreams filled with dresses and make-up and the rumble of a chainsaw.

\--

When the sun rose the next day, Kanaya had hardly slept, but she couldn’t stay in bed any longer. She dressed quickly, fussed over her make-up (making sure to hide the dark bags under her eyes), then decided to walk around the city to clear her mind.

The air was crisp and cold, and her breath swam like silver clouds before her. By chance, she discovered a small café that served coffee and bagels that had enough of an early morning line to be marked as one of the good ones. There was a dizzying array of choices, but the cashier was friendly and offered her what he called a “New York classic”: a plain bagel with cream cheese and lox, a type of salmon. Plus an espresso. The coffee was strange, not quite what she was expecting somehow, but the bagel was good--savory and filling. She was beginning to understand how Americans got fat, if even their breakfasts were so filling.

She arrived two hours early for the signing, her book and its receipt in her purse. The cashier--Aranea, she thought--waved at her. “You came! Have you started the book?”

Kanaya smiled and nodded. “Yes. It is very good so far.”

“There’s still some time until Rose arrives. I could show you to our sitting area, if you want to read some more?”

“Yes, please. Thank you.”

Aranea circled around the counter, crooking her finger for Kanaya to follow her into the stacks, until they reached a small reading corner, with a couple of armchairs and tables. “Make yourself at home. I’ll get you when others start to arrive! You’ll be first in line, I promise.”

“Thank you. You are very kind.”

Aranea flushed with pleasure and mumbled pleasant, humble things while Kanaya slid out of her coat and draped it over a chair, then sat with her book, opening it up to where she’d left off.

And so the time went by.

\--

“Miss? A few people have arrived. Would you like to take your place in line?”

Kanaya looked up and closed the book a bit too quickly. “Yes, thank you for telling me.”

“I promised I would!”

The people milling around were generally young, maybe early to mid-20s. There was a young Latin man with a septum piercing looking at his feet, shuffling and clutching his copy of the book to his chest. A tall lanky man stood next to him, rubbing his shoulders with a glassy look to his eyes. He appeared to be there only to support the one with the piercing. Somewhat behind them, and so probably not with them, was a teenaged boy with hair that had clearly seen too much dye and product, with a purple streak through the center. He had a long blue striped scarf that looked like an amateur’s first attempt at knitting. It endeared him to her, in an, “I want to take you under my wing, you poor child” kind of way.

Aranea showed Kanaya to the front of the line, giving a sharp and purposed response to the grumbling this incited from the teenager, who crossed his arms and outright sulked. Was he skipping school to be here? The other two didn’t seem to mind.

Over the next hour, more people trickled in, a good mix of men and women, most with interesting piercings and tattooes. And questionable fashion choices. Kanaya felt a little out of place with her professional, well-balanced look. Should she try to run to the WC and... grunge up a bit?

_No_ , she told herself sternly. _You are here to impress Miss Rose Lalonde, not other fans. You are fine._

And then a hush fell over the burbling crowd as the bell over the door jangled and the author herself appeared.

_So, the picture had been true to life,_ was Kanaya’s first thought. Rose Lalonde was shorter than expected, but her hair was neat and well-kept, and though she wore a lot of make-up, it didn’t come across as gaudy or overdone. Her coat was white, with dark trim, and Kanaya could see she took good care of it, since it was worn, but not dirty. She had on a long ruffled skirt, under which Kanaya could catch a glimpse of gorgeous black and white boots as she walked up past the line, smiling, chatting, and shaking hands as she passed.

She stopped in front of Kanaya, and her smiled widened a bit. “Well, hello there.” She held out her hand for her to shake. Kanaya did so, hoping she wasn’t sweating too obviously. “I love your sweater.”

“Ah, thank you,” Kanaya mumbled. “My, um, cousin made it for me.”

“Oh, where are you from?”

“France...”

“Ah! _J’espère que vous aimiez les mots français dans mes livres. J'étudiais le français au lycée, mais je continuais en université et un peu dans ma vie._ ” She smiled, more widely than she had at the others. “ _J'espère que la traduction française est bonne?_ ”

Kanaya smiled back, suddenly much more relaxed. It was amazing, just the comfort of knowing that Rose Lalonde could understand her even if English failed her. “ _Ouais, c’est bon._ ”

“ _Excellent. Je suis contente_. I have to start signing books now.” She winked as she switched to English.  

“Oh, yes. Of course...” _That’s the reason everyone’s here, Kanaya. Keep it together._

She settled herself at the table, smiled at the stack of books next to her and took up her Sharpie. “Let the signing begin.”

Kanaya walked up to the table, holding out her copy. Rose Lalonde complimented the black lace bookmark, and opened it up to the title page with the ease of practice. “How long are you in New York for?”

“Until the 13th.”

“Oh, that’s quite a bit more time. Have any plans?”

“Not really... I would like to shop a little. But that is all.”

Rose Lalonde smiled and bent back over the book, finishing signing with a flourish, and snapped it shut. “Well, I hope you enjoy it.” She held out the book, and as Kanaya took it, she finished with, “Don’t forget to look at your new autograph.”

Kanaya looked at her, her face a question, but Rose Lalonde only winked and waved over the nervous boy, whose companion gave him a lazy grin and a shoulder squeeze and pushed him toward the table.

As she left the shop, Kanaya opened the book to the title page. Under a dark purple signature were ten numbers that were arranged suspiciously like a phone number.

Holy shit.

_Rose Lalonde had given her her number._

Kanaya sagged against the nearest wall, her eyes large as dinner plates, before pulling her phone out of her purse and inputting the number, making a mental note to try and make dinner plans because oh my God, _she had Rose Lalonde’s number_.

Now, all she had to do was impress her on a date.

...Kanaya was suddenly extremely grateful for her military-styled tank top. Fantastic cleavage would be a good distraction from her less-than-fantastic speech skills.

Crap, if she wanted to do dinner, Kanaya had only a few hours to prepare an outfit.

She practically sprinted back to her hotel. This had to be _perfect_.

  
  
  


 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who are curious, the little French conversation translated is here:
> 
> Rose: I hope you liked the French words in my books. I studied French in high school, but I continued in college and a little in my life. [...] I hope the French translation is good?
> 
> Kanaya: Yeah, it's good.
> 
> Rose: Excellent. I'm happy. 
> 
> I don't really care that Rose's French is a bit stilted, since it's school French anyway and it makes more sense for it to be a little weird and overly formal (like mine lol).


	3. Act II Act II: Kanaya Goes on a Date and a Revelation Occurs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you mean it's been like a year since I updated this?

Long side-slit black skirt, dark green military tank with shiny gold buttons, long gold earrings, tall black boots, peacoat and a warm green scarf. Kanaya was debating a cardigan. On one hand, frumpy. On the other, she had no idea where they would have dinner. And Kanaya’s nipples liked to, um, make their presence known when they were cold. But would that be a perk? _How does dating work??_

It was 3:30pm, and Kanaya still needed to call Rose, but she was dallying. At first, it was because obviously she was signing books and was too busy to answer. But three and a half hours were enough to be finished, weren’t they?

She took at a deep breath and put the number from the book into her international phone, double and then triple-checking before she pressed the call button. It rang once, twice, thrice… then finally, a soft, “Hello? Rose Lalonde speaking.”

 _Gulp._ “Um, this is Kanaya Maryam. We met before… at the book signing?” She felt faint but couldn’t sit down because she was pacing nervously.

“Ah, yes, the French woman. Kanaya… That’s a beautiful name. How are you?”

“I’m fine. I hope you are, also?”

“I am.” Her voice softened like she was smiling. “So, I see you found my number. Can I hope that you’re calling to make a date?”

Well, that was easier than expected. Kanaya was thrown off-guard. “Um, y-yes you can. If you want.”

“I would love to. Are you free tonight for dinner and drinks perhaps?”

“Yes, I am free. Um, 6 o’clock is okay?”

“That should be fine. Shall I pick you up?”

They agreed that Rose would pick her up in the hotel lobby, said their goodbyes and Kanaya went to the bathroom to squeal unprofessionally and then play with make-up. She was tempted to call Porrim. Actually, could she call Porrim? She thought through the time difference. It was 4pm here… that’s 16 and Paris was six hours ahead… So that was 22…

She called Porrim.

“ _Â llo_?”

“Porrim, I need your help. I have a date in two hours. What should I do with my make-up?”

“ _Menteuse_! You told me you weren’t meeting a girlfriend!”

“I wasn’t planning on it! It just… happened!”

“Oh? Tell me about it.”

“I don’t have time, Porrim! Date in less than two hours!”

“Okay, okay. But you must tell me everything later. Promise me.”

“I promise!”

“Alright, _chouchou_ , tell me what you have and what you’ll be wearing…”

\--

At 5:50pm, Kanaya checked her make-up one last time. Porrim had suggested a dark green eyeshadow and thick lines around the eyes, with lots of mascara. Then, a thin layer of shimmer over the shadow and at the corners of the eyes to make them pop. Her lips were a dark, dark red, almost black when there wasn’t a light on them. Kanaya personally thought she looked a little overdone, but Porrim had approved of the picture text, and she knew much more about dating than Kanaya, so she decided to trust her cousin.

She made her way down to the lobby, heart fluttering in her chest. She had decided against a cardigan, but had swapped into a thicker bra that had the double bonus of less nipple and more cleavage. Her eyes swept the lobby as she entered, noticing several men perking up with immediate interest. Excellent. She used their attention as surrogate self-confidence, and sat down near the door, crossing her ankles and trying not to stare constantly at the door.

At five of, her phone buzzed with a text from Porrim. _Bonne chance, ma petite! Amuse-toi_ She smiled at it, feeling Porrim’s encouragement and love.

It buzzed again in her hand before she could reply.  _Utilise des préservatifs!_

She blushed and put the phone in her purse. Obviously, they wouldn’t be having sex tonight.

Obviously.

Oh God, what if they _did_?

Luckily that line of thought stuttered to a halt when Rose came inside. Under the coat, there was clearly a different skirt and shoes. The skirt was long and deep violet, and the shoes were patent black and strappy. Kanaya noticed the heel wasn’t very high. Were they going to be walking?

Rose smiled as she spotted Kanaya. Her eyes swept up and down, leaving Kanaya feeling a little breathless. Did her cheeks flush darker? Or was that just rouge? “Are you ready to go?” Rose asked.

Kanaya nodded and followed her outside, where there was a taxi waiting. Rose gave the driver an address and settled down in the seat. “It’ll be about 15 minutes with traffic,” she said. “I hope you don’t mind?”

“No, it’s okay.” Kanaya squeezed her hands in her lap.

Rose seemed to understand her nervousness and didn’t comment on it. “I love your outfit, by the way. Green really suits you.”

“Thank you. I really like your shoes from the book signing,” Kanaya said. “I wish I knew the name, so I can buy them.”

“I believe people call them ‘granny boots’. I could take you to the store where I bought them, if you like.”

“That would be very nice, thank you.” Kanaya was calming down. Rose seemed intimidating at first, but there was something quite relaxing about her, sort of familiar.

The cab stopped and Rose paid before Kanaya could say anything. She even held the door for Kanaya as she got out. This part of the city seemed mostly residential, reminding Kanaya a bit of the older neighborhoods in Paris. They were in front of an Italian restaurant called Il Vagabondo. It was busy, with people coming in and out in a fairly steady stream. A small, portly man was standing beside the entrance, greeting people with handshakes and a warm smile.

“Believe it or not, that’s the owner,” Rose said as they walked up the steps. “We call him the Mayor.”

“But why?”

Rose smiled. “You’ll see.”

The Mayor positively bubbled with delight upon seeing Rose. “Ms. Lalonde, how lovely to see you this evening. How’s the book business treating you?”

“Very well, Mayor. Allow me to introduce my lovely date. This is Kanaya Maryam. Kanaya, the Mayor.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you, sir,” Kanaya said.

“The pleasure is all mine. _Enchantée_.” He seemed very proud of himself for recognizing her accent. “Well, go right in, ladies. Your table is ready.”

Kanaya didn’t know what she had been expecting, but it wasn’t this. The walls were covered in maps, some done in the bold strokes and garish colors that only a child would love, others in pen and pencil, with labeled place names and green parks. Some were digitally drawn and printed, the printer having left streaks of white as it suffered. And there was one, hanging behind a pane of glass along the back wall, done in delicate ink strokes, with areas watercolored and cross-hatched, and colored lines marking streets from the center outward.

Then, she noticed the tables. They had colored tablecloths and different centerpieces; the smallest ones were red with little china houses, the middle ones were yellow and decorated with storefronts, and the two large tables on either side were done in blue with a model of a post office and a courthouse respectively.

So that’s why he was the Mayor. His restaurant was his city. “Let me show you to your table,” the waiter at the counter said. He was a tall, lanky boy in his late teens, or maybe early twenties, with pale, slicked-back hair and light brown eyes. Rose gave him a smile.

“So formal tonight, Dave.”

“It’s called being professional, Rose. I was _trying_ to impress your date, but now you’ve ruined everything forever. I hope you’re happy.”

“Quite happy, thank you. Now, you said something about our table?”

The waiter (Dave apparently) led them back towards the large map, to a red-clothed table with a little white house on it. He pulled a lighter from his pocket and lit the hidden candle inside, making the windows glow. “Enjoy. Might I make a wine suggestion?” Even Kanaya could tell he was playing up his role to the point of comedy.

Rose was trying not to laugh, and rested a splayed hand on her chest in a mocking politeness as she said in a breathy voice, “Why, sir, I would be delighted.”

“Tonight we have a lovely Barefoot Pinot Grigio,” he said with an affected voice, twirling an imaginary moustache between his fingers.

Rose raised an eyebrow, but was still smiling. “Let me guess, it’s marked up about $15?”

“For you, _mademoiselle_ , only 10.”

She rested the back of her hand against her forehead, leaning backwards in a swoon. “Oh, Mr. Strider, you’re such a gentleman. I can barely stand it.” Then she laughed and dropped the act. “We’ll take it, if that’s alright, Kanaya?” She turned back to her date.

“That’s fine,” she answered. “But I would like some water, too?”

“Of course. Same for you, Rose?”

“Yes, thank you.”

Dave put the menus down on the table and went to go fetch their drinks.

“I’ve heard waiters aren’t as friendly in France. Is that true? Of course, Dave is my cousin, so it’s a little different, but here, waiters are expected to be friendly with their tables in general.”

Kanaya thought about it. “In my experience, a good waiter is invisible. He does his job, but he does not want to be your friend, so why would he pretend? Does that make sense?”

Rose nodded. “I guess Americans just like to pretend that we’re all friends, though it is, of course, untrue.”

Before Kanaya had think of a way to continue the conversation, Dave was back with two glasses of water, an ice bucket with the wine in it, and two wine glasses. As he set the table, he clucked his tongue at Rose. “Haven’t even opened your menus? God, we’re gonna be here all night.”

“I know. I was planning on showing her your baby pictures later.”

At first, Kanaya thought “baby pictures” meant that Dave _had_ a baby, which concerned her since he was quite young, but judging by his reaction, she considered it might mean pictures of himself _as_ a baby, which made more sense.

Unfortunately, she lost the thread of their banter while she was pondering this, and missed Rose’s next question at her.

“Kanaya? Did you hear me?”

“Sorry!” She blushed. “I was thinking…”

“It’s no problem. I only asked how you started reading my books. My international market is fairly small, after all.”

So, Kanaya told the story, starting with the job where she met Luisa, how they became acquaintances, and how she ultimately introduced her to the series. While she told it, Dave came to get their orders, floating around a bit to listen to story as much as he could while still doing his job.

When Kanaya finished, Dave was clearing away the appetizer dishes, and Rose was tapping her chin thoughtfully. “I’ll have to send her a thank you note,” she said. “Do you think you could deliver it?”

“I could. I will see her when I return to work after the New Year.”

“Oh, where do you work? I don’t think I’ve asked you yet.” Kanaya felt a blush creeping up her neck, and she sipped from her wine glass. “I am a _mannequin_.”

Rose’s brow furrowed. “Mannequin?” she repeated, swapping in the English “kwin” for the proper “kan”. “Oh! A model!”

The blush burned hotter, and Kanaya ducked her head, mentally berating herself. _False friends, Kanaya! Just because they have the same word doesn’t mean it means the same thing! You didn’t even bother looking up your own damn profession?_

“Hey, don’t be so embarrassed. I do the same thing. Last time I went to Paris, I asked for _le chèque_ instead of _l’addition_.”

Kanaya cracked a smile at that, trying to relax. It was okay to make mistakes. Rose wasn’t going to think any less of her. “I… I have a question for you,” she said.

Rose smiled and sipped her wine. “Go ahead.”

“This will be very strange, I’m sorry, but… Why is Destruction red?”

Her expression turned odd, eyebrows knitting together, lips tightening. Kanaya forged on. “It’s just… I imagined him… green?”

“Why?”

Kanaya shook her head. “I do not know… It is just what I imagined…”

Dave appeared, setting their entrees down. “She has a point. I pictured the dude as a hulking green rage monster. Like Hulk, but with less hair.”

“And only one leg?” Kanaya added.

Dave nodded. “Yeah, only one leg, with the missing one filled in by a super blinged out pool cue-lookin’ fake one.”

Kanaya only got half of that, but that was okay, because that was most definitely agreement. (Right?)

Rose’s frown deepened. “It’s strange. In my initial notes, that _was_ what he looked like. But as I worked on the story further, it seemed to not fit, since it’s Inspiration who is associated with green. And there’s nothing in the story that would suggest otherwise. At least, not to my knowledge.”

“What… inspired the story at the beginning, if you don’t mind the question.”

Dave was just blatantly standing there now, looking at his cousin. He wasn’t even pretending to be busy anymore. Rose sighed and twined her fingers together on the table in front of her. “Dreams, mostly. The characters in the books are based on people I’ve met in sleep. Some of them are clearer than others, and the most vivid dream characters don’t have much presence in the books. They’re almost too personal to me. As if sharing them means showing the world my heart. ...I’m sorry, I’m not making much sense.”

Dave snorted. “As if that god of knowledge wasn’t totally an author avatar. Face it, Lalonde, that was totally you.” Kanaya gasped. “Ahh, no! I am not at that part yet!”

“Whoops, sorry.” At least he actually looked sorry. “I’ll just go get you guys some more water.” He skittered away to fetch the pitcher.

“Where _are_ you, by the way?” Rose asked. Her hands were elegant on her cutlery as she sliced her chicken. Kanaya was slightly distracted.

“Um, Danios was talking to the librarian about where to find the books of gods.”

“Ahh, then you’re not too far behind where Dave was talking about, don’t worry.” She smiled. “How do you like Danios, by the way?”

“I think he is immature and should be kicked in the legs.”

With a surprised laugh, Rose set her forkful of food down so that she didn’t make a mess by spilling it everywhere. “So harsh! He’s just a kid.”

“That is how I feel.” Kanaya sipped her wine.

“Well, maybe you’ll change your mind by the end of the book.”

“I doubt it.”

Rose laughed again. “Do let me know when you finish. So, what kind of modeling do you do?”

\--

The rest of the evening passed in a pleasant blur, ending in Rose kissing her goodbye as they stopped in front of the hotel. Kanaya walked up to her room in a haze, flopping onto her bed, fingers over her lips. They tingled with remembered warmth. She really hoped she’d said goodbye properly.

She changed out of her clothes and washed off her makeup, curling up in her bed with her copy of _Earthsea Borealis_ , curious about what Dave had said about Rose being a character.

 

_Eria sighed as she watched Danios move about the shelves. She wished she could read, sitting there, unable to do anything but wait, was agonizing. Finally, his arms trembling from the weight, Danios brought over a collection of large tomes, and set them down on the table before her. “This is all we could find on minor gods,” he said, wiping his brow. “Three hefty books on the houses of Pluto and Terre.”_

_“Are there summoning rites?” she asked, sitting up and opening the top book, rifling through the pages for pictures._

_“Maybe. I don’t know. I’ll help look.” He grabbed the second book._

_“What would they look like?”_

_“A list of ingredients, a list of sigils, moon phases, stuff like that.”_

_“Okay.” She looked for lists and pictures._

_The silence dragged on, broken only by the rustle of turning pages. As time ticked by, it began to rain, pattering against the windowpanes._

_“Ah!” Danios broke the silence. “I think I’ve found something!” He turned the book around, and slid it across the table for Eria to see. There was a sigil resembling a sun, along with a list of items along one side. “This is about summoning a god of knowledge and good fortune. They’ll answer questions and grant blessings. Sounds like something that would help, right?”_

_“Yes. What do we have to do?”_

_“Can’t you read it?”_

_Eria scowled. “If I could, would I be making you do this?”_

_“Oh.” He pulled the book back towards him. “At dawn we must assemble and burn a mixture of sage, myrrh, and rosemary in this sort of pattern… And then we’ll summon the god… I guess? The wording here is very confusing.”_

_“Those should be in the alchemy wing. Come with me.”_

_They walked in silence down the empty corridors. Eria wondered how many servants had fled after Destruction’s appearance. She didn’t blame them._

_The alchemy wing was also empty, but the shelves were labeled, and Danios proved himself quite adept at figuring out the sorting pattern. Soon enough, they had three small pouches of the ingredients, as well as a handful of candles. Eria held the book open so that he could see the amounts they needed._

_They worked far into the night, drawing the sigil atop one of the tower roofs, pouring the ingredients onto the proper junctions and setting the candles in the center, so when they burned down, they would set the herbs alight._

_As the moon set, and the sky began to turn pink at the edge of the world, Eria lit the candles. They burned quickly, and sweetly scented smoke began to ooze up into the air, gray against the rosy sky._

_Eria and Danios looked at each other, then back at the sigil, waiting for something, anything, to happen._

_The sun rose over the horizon, heavy and golden yellow, spilling out into the sky. As they watched, the smoke began to glow and sink, coming together first into a ball, and then stretching upwards, like clay, into a vaguely human shape. As the sky began to turn blue, the smoke fell away, leaving a woman behind._

_She was tall, with long, lanky limbs draped in a gauzy yellow fabric that fluttered in the breeze. It wrapped around her head like a shroud, hiding her eyes and her hair, but leaving her dark lips free to smile._

_“It’s been many years since I have been summoned. What do you ask of me, bloods of sea and sky?”_

_After a moment of awe, Eria cleared her throat and spoke. “The god Destruction has been freed. We need to know of a way to stop him.”_

_“You cannot stop him, any more than you can stop a tidal wave or an earthquake. He is a force of nature.”_

_“But you stopped him once! You and our ancestors!” Eria cried. “Why is it different now?”_

_The woman frowned, the billowing cloth pulling closer to her body. “We had help then. There was trap set with the help of his sister, a being of equal power. We cannot reach her when he is on a rampage."_

_Suddenly, her expression shifted. “Hm…” Her body began to glow, light shimmering out of her skin. “Gather those who are left of the blood. You must seek new champions to replace those who have been lost,” she said, her voice resonating more deeply than it had before. “Seek out he would desire the crown and wear it well, and find the queen who will defend him to her death. And beware, you have only a moon’s time until he realizes his true targets.”_

_The glow began to fade, along with the goddess. “It’s not a literal queen,” she said as she began to return to smoke. “Think of chess…”_

_And she was gone._

_“Chess?!” Eria repeated furiously. “And a man who wants to rule?! Why not tell us to find a piece of straw in a bale of hay?!”_

_“Let’s start with the first part of what she said then,” Danios said slowly. “‘Gather those left of the blood.’ That must be the other houses.”_

_“But they’re fighting right now. And I know there are a few descendents who seek Destruction’s return.”_

_“We have to start somewhere,” he insisted. “Let’s pack for the journey.”_

_And Eria, unable to think of anything to say against him, followed him down the staircase and back into the castle._

 

Kanaya smiled a little. The goddess had definitely been Rose.

Her eyes itched with exhaustion, so she rolled over and fell straight to sleep.

While she slept, she dreamed of heroes of light and space, of yellow fabric splayed out behind pale white skin, of dark lips smiling against hers in the dark.

\--

The rest of her vacation was spent with Rose. The last night, she spent at Rose’s home. It was small, a simple studio apartment, but the walls were done in shades of lavender, and the curtains were black lace. Posters in elegant frames hung on the walls, but the effect was sort of ruined by the general messiness of the place. Rose apologized as she gathered socks and shoes from the floor, and shoved a haphazard pile of knitting to the side of a two-seater couch so Kanaya could sit.

Kanaya didn’t mind. The reminder that Rose Lalonde was not, in fact, perfect was a welcome one. They sat and drank and pointedly _didn’t_ talk about what would happen when Kanaya went home.

The moon outside was round and full, casting moonshadows across the floor as they sat on the couch, curled together, watching _The Addams Family_. Finally, Kanaya couldn’t take it anymore.

“I will miss you,” she said quietly, tucking her head into Rose’s shoulder.

“I already miss you,” Rose returned, equally quiet. “It’s so strange… I feel like I know you so much better than I do, and it makes me so reluctant to let you go.”

“Mm…” Kanaya didn’t say anything. What was there to say?

“I want to show you something.” Rose got up, walking over to one of the many bookshelves. This one full of folders. She grabbed a jade green one, and returned to the couch, laying the folder open on the table. There were many, many papers inside, covered in scribbled notes and drawings in various stages of completion, from pencil sketches to watercolors.

It was clearly the same woman, drawn again and again, with different faces, different outfits, different hair, but always with the same aesthetic, the same style, the same… _feeling_. All of the clothing was right to Kanaya’s taste: bright, bold colors, minimal patterning, nothing overly sexual, but not chaste either. The hairstyles too, short and feminine, just like she preferred.

The symbol for her Zodiac sign, _la Vierge_ , was repeated throughout many of the clothing designs. On one large bust, the woman had horns. Slender, curving gently upwards, the left one hooked outward at the top. It was an eerie sense of _déjà-vu_ for Kanaya, like looking at old photographs of her mother.

“Who is she?” she asked Rose, speaking softly, as if a loud voice would scare the feeling away.

“She is the character I see the most. I joke sometimes that she is my ghost, because of the way she has haunted me my whole life.” Rose curled some of the newer drawings forward, revealing older ones, until finally landing on a crayon drawing, with the wobbly lines and distorted proportions of a child’s hand. It was the same woman though, without a doubt. Short black hair, green eyes, orange horns, and a red dress. “I call her the Virgin, because of the Virgo symbol. Some of the other characters have Zodiac signs too.”

“I am a… Virgo,” Kanaya said slowly. “And these drawings… They look like…”

“You,” Rose finished. “I know. That’s why I gave you my phone number. I wanted to talk to you, get to know you, because you reminded me so _much_ of my beautiful ghost.”

Kanaya looked at the drawings, and the pages and pages of notes, talking about interests and weapons and… romance.

“In your dreams, is she...?”

Rose blushed, noticing the page Kanaya had found, covered in loose, sensual sketches of the woman in various states of undress. “Sometimes. I wake up and I miss her desperately.”

Kanaya kept looking through the images, becoming more and more convinced that this woman was _her_.

“Rose, do you believe… in.” She had to stop and think of the word, and in the end she realized she only knew the French one. “Euh… _réincarnation_?”

“I don’t, generally.” Oh good, she understood. “And yet…” Rose stopped, and looked Kanaya straight in the eye. “You make me want to.”

Kanaya didn’t know what to say, but tucked herself into Rose’s arms. “I will believe if you believe,” she said at last.

“Promise me you’ll keep in touch when you go home?”

“ _Je promets._ ”

\--

_The last of the bloodlines gathered in the palace of the gods. They had found their king and queen. The king shifted on his feet, his kind eyes bright and hopeful, despite the horrors they had seen. His queen, the protector, stood beside them, a tall woman in white, clutching a jet black sword._

_Eria looked at those who had gathered, Uranus, Venus, Mars, Lune, Ceres, Jupiter, and noted who were not there. Mercury, Saturn. Without the original 12, even with the help of the king and queen, how on earth were they going to win?_

_The gods emerged, two groups of four. Eria recognized the goddess of knowledge, and felt Danios twitch by her side as he did too. With her, a god in blue and a god in red, and a goddess in black and white._

_On the other side of the hall, there were gods in gold and fuchsia, and goddesses in dark blue and pale green._

_The goddess of knowledge stepped forward. She waved a hand towards her group. “The house of Terre.” A gesture to the other. “The house of Pluto.”_

_There was a murmur throughout Eria’s gathered allies, but no one spoke up._

_“Eria,” she continued. “I think you’ll want to talk to my friend over here.” She drifted to the other side of the room, putting her hands on the pale green goddess’s shoulders._

_The goddess stepped forward and held out her hands. Green magic rose from the floor, oozing like smoke, wrapping around her palms. The magic glowed brighter and brighter until a resounding crack and flash filled the room._

_The goddess in black and white grinned and glowed in answer. Another crack, and Lux fell from midair down onto the floor, yelping as he hit. Eria surged forward, wrapping him tightly in her arms._

_Bewildered, Lux hugged her back, looking around at the gathered crowd. “What’s going on?” he asked weakly._

_“We’re going to save the world,” Eria whispered._

_“From what?”_

_“Destruction himself.”_

_Lux, still confused, nodded. “I’ll do whatever you need me to.”_

\--

\--

_Destruction was sealed once more, the world safe from his wrath for another few lifetimes, with any luck._

_The king was given a proper throne and a Parliament made up of a representative of each remaining house. Danios proved himself a born politician. He never was popular, but he could always get something done._

_And as the years went by, conflicts arose and were ended with the help of the noble houses, working in harmony under the king and his steadfast guardian._

_Eria was very happy as a representative of her house, rather than an empress, and she and Lux spent the rest of their years in relative peace._

 

Kanaya closed the book, a smile on her face. She leaned back into the pillows on her bed, staring up at the familiar ceiling of her bedroom, and clutched the book to her chest. It had only been three days since her return to France, but meeting Rose already felt like it had been a strange dream.

Her phone beeped, alerting her of a new email. Setting the book beside her on the coverlet, Kanaya rolled over to read it.

_Hello, dear. I hope this message finds you safe and comfortable. I miss the sound of your voice. Could we Skype soon?_

_Rose_

Kanaya found herself grinning like a fool as she got up out of bed and turned on her laptop, double-clicking the little blue icon.

And an ocean away, filtered through an old webcam image, Rose appeared, neat and beautiful and _hers_.

“Hello, _ma chère_ ,” Kanaya said warmly.

“Good evening, dear. I miss you already.”

“I do too,” Kanaya said with a sigh.

“I had hoped so.” Rose smiled. “Because I just opened up Kayak and there are some decently-priced flights to Paris happening soon.”

Kanaya couldn’t resist a squeal of delight.

_Fin_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Utilise des préservatifs = Use protection
> 
> If you couldn't guess from context :P


End file.
